


Picture Perfect

by SkycladFox



Series: Natural Tails [5]
Category: Around the World With Willy Fog
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Intimacy, Modeling, Nude Modeling, Photography, nude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkycladFox/pseuds/SkycladFox
Summary: Mr Willy Fog decides to take up photography as a hobby, but is more than a little bemused by his lovely wife's insistence on modelling for him, and in decidedly unorthodox fashion to boot.  She may, however, have a surprising ulterior motive.
Relationships: Willy Fog/Princess Romy
Series: Natural Tails [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1258781
Kudos: 1





	Picture Perfect

Mr Fog stepped through his front door to be greeted by a not entirely composed Rigadon; the smaller feline's ears were twitching along with their fingers, and it made the lion's brow lift.

“Welcome home, monsieur!” Rigadon's tone was as bright and warm as ever but seemed, to Fog, tinged with something dangerously close to anxiety. “Your photographic equipment is prepared in the drawing room.” The faintest of quivers set into their voice. “As is your model.”

Fog's other brow rose, along with his ears. “Model? What model? I'd not asked f...” His eyes widened. “Do you mean to say...?”

Rigadon nodded. “Oui, monsieur. I tried to dissuade her, but...”

“But once she's set her mind to something...” A half-chuckle, half-sigh slipping free Fog patted his servant's shoulder. “Don't fret, Rigadon; I'm not angry; more curious, I should say.” The lion put aside his coat and umbrella – the weather was decidedly inclement – glanced at the hall clock – satisfyingly accurate – then headed for the drawing room.

The other cat's nerves didn't quell; they followed their master, hands fluttering a little. “But there's more, Monsieur. I...”

“Don't _fret_ , Rigadon,” Fog repeated, pushing the door open. “I'm sure it's noth...” He froze, hand still on the knob, jaw falling slack.

His camera was indeed ready and waiting, all of its accoutrements in place, but Fog barely noticed it, his stupefied gaze registering only the chaise longue that had materialised in the middle of the room, and the feminine figure reclining on it wearing only a jewelled headpiece, a set of delicate bracelets and a gentle smile. She lay on her left side, facing the camera, her arms folded demurely in front of her chest, her right leg drawn up a little higher than the left, elegant and peaceful, without a trace of self-consciousness.

Fog gazed at Romy for several long moments, Rigadon fretting behind him, then finally found his voice. “My dear lady, I know you were taken with the classical nudes in the art gallery, but _this_...”

Romy chuckled, her smile widening. “Forgive the impropriety – this is hardly proper for a lady, I know, or a good English gentleman – but I'm afraid I simply couldn't resist. If I've overstepped a boundary...”

Fog turned to his servant. “Please ensure we are not disturbed until supper, Rigadon. If that necessitates tying Tico to something, so be it.”

“Oui, monsieur!” The smaller cat beamed, his relief palpable. Bowing out, he shut the door behind him with a soft click.

“If you'd kindly bear with me a moment...” The lion checked over his camera, dry plates and portable darkroom, ensuring that all was to his liking, then removed the camera's lens cap. He ratcheted into focus on the reclining Romy, replaced the cap, then slid a plate in and removed its cover. Finally, a paw gripped the lens cap. “Smile, please.”

A peaceable example spread across the other feline's face, and with a small flourish Fog uncovered the lens. Barely a second later he clicked it back on, replaced the plate's cover, then eased that out and set it by his darkroom. While he set a fresh plate in place, Romy relocated her right arm, draping it along her flank, her hand resting on her thigh, and extended her upper leg a little more. This meant one of her petite but shapely breasts, a point of dusky pink at its summit, and a sliver of fine fur between her thighs were both now visible.

Fog's brow rose incrementally, but at her encouraging smile he set to taking a second picture. Once it was done, and while he slid the third plate into place, Romy rolled fluidly onto her back, one arm trailing to the floor, the other curled so her hand rested on her belly, her rear leg drawn up, her front one stretched out flat, her gaze fixed on a point up above. Now, from the camera's higher perspective, both of her breasts were in view, as well as the dimple at the top of her vulva.

Fog's brow climbed higher. “I do believe we're pushing at the limits of what any gallery would accept.”

Romy's smile widened. “Who ever said these pictures were for public display?”

Fog's eyes widened slightly, then he chuckled lightly. “A fair point.”

When the third picture was finished, instead of immediately slipping the fourth slate in he watched with no small curiosity to see what pose his beautiful model would adopt next. Romy shifted into the corner of backrest and armrest and pulled herself up a bit, settled with her body angled a little towards him, draped her right arm along the the latter, stretched her right leg along the body of the chaise, rested her left foot on the floor in front of her, and propped her head on her left hand, her muzzle directing a warm, slightly mischievous smile at her husband; all of her was now visible, and that clearly didn't concern her one bit.

Both of Fog's brows rose so high they almost vanished into his mane, and it took him a moment to find his voice. “This is unseemly of me, I must confess, but I do have to wonder...”

“If I have an ulterior motive?” Romy chuckled softly. “I must confess that I do, but beg you not to enquire further until we're done.”

Fog smiled. “If you insist.”

“Thank you.” The warmth in her voice caught his breath. “How many more plates do you have?”

The lion checked. “Three.”

“All right. I believe I can find enough poses.”

Fog, not for the first time finding occasion to marvel at his wife, took another picture, set it with the previous three, then as he eased in the penultimate slide she shifted to stretch out on her front right along the chaise, tail running along the join of her legs and head resting between her paws, smiling toward him, on the top of the backrest.

Exchanging slides for the last time Fog observed a subtle but distinct gleam of mischief stealing into Romy's eyes. His own widened greatly as she moved to lie with her haunches propped up by the armrest, her legs splayed wide and tail hanging over it, her vulva lightly parted, her breasts rolled strongly to either side, her arms trailing to the floor and her grinning head hanging between them.

Fog blinked. Multiple times. “I, uh...” He cleared his throat. “Are...are you... _quite_ sure...?”

Romy laughed. “Can't I have a little fun, once in a while?”

“Of course, but...” The lion sighed, and gently shook his head. “You're fortunate my admiration and regard for you is so very profound.”

The other feline beamed. “I love you, too.”

Fog took the last picture, set it aside, straightened up, and was almost immediately pulled into a tight hug, his wife's muzzle nestling into the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” she murmured, deep emotion filling her voice.

The lion returned the embrace, then eased back, paws settling on her hips, and felt a pang of concern at the wetness of her eyes. “Romy...”

Her finger gently quieted him. “You recall I was once merely property, correct?” she asked.

Fog nodded.

“But, I doubt you understand what that truly meant.”

Fog shook his head.

Romy took a breath. “It meant the Rajah controlled me completely, in every aspect of my life and being. I was what he told me to be, did all he me told me to, only said what he allowed me to say, on pain of a punishment most severe. All of this meant that, should he command me to stand naked before him so that he might...admire...me, well...”

Feeling a slight tremble creeping into her form, Fog held her closer.

“Suffice it to say those experiences had a profoundly negative effect on me with regard to my body. I could hardly look at myself, let alone even contemplate someone else looking at me, convinced I'd never be treated with anything close to respect. But then, by some inexplicable fluke of fate, I met you.”

Romy shifted so their noses touched, and real warmth filled her face and tone. “Someone incapable of being anything other than respectful of me. Someone who actually made me feel like a _real_ princess, like I mattered, like I was a _person_. So, when you began to experiment with photography, an idea came to me. I didn't entertain it much at all, but then we visited the art gallery...”

“Ah.” Fog started to smile. “I'm moved you trusted me so.”

“I needed to. I needed to _know_ , beyond any possible doubt, that I'm truly appreciated and respected and cared for even when at my most vulnerable, most exposed. That, when I'm nothing but myself, there's someone in this world that loves me still.”

Fog stroked the back of her head, and the small of her back, and laid a loving kiss on the bridge of her muzzle. “My dear, you are quite simply the most beautiful, the most beguiling, the most wonderful creature I have ever had the pleasure and privilege of laying eyes on, and never more so than when being nothing but yourself.”

Romy's smile fair blinded him, and she drew him into a soft, intimate kiss, a purr welling in her throat. “I...”

“Mama _Mia_...!”

The two felines stiffened, looked round in unison to see Tico gazing at the lady in slack-jawed wonder, and Rigadon cringing with worry close behind, then relaxed, smiling.

“I hope I'm not too scandalous for you, Tico dear,” Romy chuckled.

“Nothing could-a _ever_ be scandalous about you,” he replied, gallantly.

“I'm so sorry for the interruption, Monsieur,” Rigadon fretted.

“No harm done,” Fog assured him. “We've completed our session.” A twinkle in his eye, he looked to his wife. “I wonder, would you be at all amenable to further ones?”

Romy laughed, and kissed him again. “Of course. Now, I do believe it is very nearly time for supper. Perhaps a light one, tonight?”

“A capital idea,” Fog agreed, readily. “Dress, my dear, and we'll...” He trailed off, watching as the graceful feline wafted from the room, still in just her lush fur. “Aren't you forgetting something?” he ventured.

She looked over her shoulder with a gleaming smile. “No.” Then she was gone, just her gentle footsteps fading away, Tico bouncing after.

Fog blinked, looked around and realised there were no clothes to be seen, then sighed and looked wryly to his servant. “It would seem our lives are destined to forever be anything but orthodox.”

“Would you have it any other way, Monsieur?”

Fog grinned, laughing. “Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder how many of you now have the theme tune stuck in your head? :-p


End file.
